


Two Playing That Game: Vignettes

by justalittlegreen, nowhiteflaguponmydoor



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Canon does not support Hawkeye being trans in literally any way, Claustrophobia, Come Eating, Competence, Crack, Firefighter, Fisting, Fucking, Hysterical Literature, I don't really think Hawkeye is trans, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Power Dynamics, Remote Control, Rescue, Sex, Snuggling, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Hawkeye, Trans Male Character, Transgender, Vibrator, Walt Whitman - Freeform, absolute crack, cocksucking, did i mention crack, emt, excuses to write BJ being supportive af, negotiating, this version of Hawkeye really likes being called Boy, thought experiment, trans bodies, trans!Hawk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhiteflaguponmydoor/pseuds/nowhiteflaguponmydoor
Summary: Let's imagine what Hunnihawk looks like if they're in college. Oh, and Hawkeye is trans. Note: this is a pure thought experiment. There is no canonical evidence for this WHATSOEVER. This is purely a what-if.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nowhiteflaguponmydoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhiteflaguponmydoor/gifts).



> With thanks to Clarabelle for being a collector and collator extraordinaire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it all begins.

9 am World History I with Dr. Robinson is the worst. Hawkeye could barely muster an interest for the American Revolution, and ancient Mayan civilizations have him struggling to stay awake on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And besides, he's premed, so wasting time learning about ancient history when he could be getting more of his major classes under his belt (or at least, more sleep) grates like cheese.

It's the third week of classes when Dr. Robinson, a man who is awkwardness and drollness personified in a mismatched tweed suit, trudges into class with a long piece of toilet paper attached to his shoe.

Dr. Robinson sets down his briefcase and immediately launches into his lecture, pacing back and forth as he mumbles - it's bad enough for Hawkeye that the subject doesn't interest him, but having to strain to hear the lecture tests the limits of his patience. At least, it would on a normal day. Today, Hawkeye watches the toilet paper dog his pacing professor like an unwanted tail and snorts. The tall, blond guy sitting next to him shoots him a look, clearing his throat pointedly. Hawkeye rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward Dr. Robinson's feet. Blond Guy's eyebrows furrow and he follows Hawkeye's line of sight. 

Hawkeye sees when Blond Guy realizes what's going on. He shakes his head and clearly tries to hold in a laugh, but a snicker escapes nonetheless. He looks away from Hawk, but his shoulders are shaking with stifled laughter.

Blond Guy leans in towards Hawkeye. "Don't look now," he whispers. "But I think he's being followed."

Hawkeye has to bite back a laugh. He shakes his head, smiling at Blond Guy. "It's like a train wreck," he says. "I can't help but look." 

It is indeed very distracting, but luckily, class is released a little earlier than usual. Dr. Robinson leaves with the toilet paper still attached to his shoe. Hawkeye and Blond Guy are in stitches as he leaves the lecture hall, the sheet of paper trailing after him an awful accessory to his already horrid outfit.

"I'm BJ," Blond Guy--BJ--says. "BJ Hunnicutt." He offers Hawkeye his hand, which Hawk takes. "Hawkeye," he says. "Hawkeye Pierce." He shifts back in his seat, suddenly conscious of his outfit, hoping the hoodie is baggy and long enough.

"Nice to meet you Hawkeye," BJ says. There's something about this guy - he seems too young to be in college. The voice is too high, or - something. "Wait. Is that a reference to Last of the Mohicans?"

Hawkeye smiles. "It is indeed," he says. "My dad's favorite book."

"Also mine's. What is it with men in their 50s and racist novels?" Hawkeye chuckles. BJ begins packing up his stuff. " I have an hour to kill before my next class, and I'm starving. Do you brave the cafeteria often?" 

Hawkeye is taken aback, but quickly snaps out of it. "Um, yeah, sure. I don't have class again til noon." 

They make their way to the belly of the student union, where the main cafeteria lurks in a poorly ventilated basement. Whatever is on the menu for the day smells disgusting, so Hawkeye heads to the beloved cereal bar. There's almost any kind of cereal you could possibly think of available, 24/7. To Hawkeye, whose comfort food is cereal, it's a little piece of heaven. BJ follows him, and Hawk watches as he combines Raisin Bran and Corn Flakes into the same bowl. "Okay, okay, I get mixing cereal," he says. "But why would you mix two of the most boring cereals in existence?

BJ laughs. "And what would you suggest, then?" 

Hawkeye grins "Well, my personal favorite is sugary and colorful. Today's concoction will consist of Fruit Loops and Cheerios."

BJ gives a low whistle. “Fruit Loops and Cheerios. I guess that isn’t a bad combination. Pretty sugary, though.”

“There are worse things in life than sugary breakfast foods,” Hawk says. He means for it to land lightly, but the look that briefly crosses BJ’s face suggests that maybe it doesn’t.

They go and sit down at a table. Hawk learns that BJ is also in Bio 101. His father was also a doctor, and so BJ is intending to following in his footsteps. The class is fairly large, and so they hadn’t immediately made the connection. BJ is from California, which explains the golden boy appearance. BJ is soft spoken, easygoing. He hasn’t made any comments or assumptions about Hawk’s appearance. Hawkeye cautiously basks in having someone that isn’t Max or Maggie to shoot the shit with. Hawkeye tends to be a realist bordering on a cynic, but maybe he’ll be able to count BJ among his friends. 

As BJ laughs at something Hawk has said about Crabapple Cove, something in Hawk’s chest warms. _Maybe,_ Hawk thinks, _just maybe, college won’t be quite as bad as high school._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With serious thanks to nowhiteflaguponmydoor for cowriting and inspiring this whole chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been so long since Hawkeye's been fucked, so long since he trusted anyone with this, and his whole body shakes with what he hopes BJ thinks is pleasure. BJ slides a hand down Hawk's front, hovers a moment at the point where his hips meet his belly. Hawk turns his head and kisses him, opening to him, hoping he'll understand that he means _I'm scared and also don't stop_.

BJ's heart stops for a second as his fingers reach past Hawk's curls, finding him slick, swollen and hot. Hawk stifles a moan against his shoulder and arches up towards his fingers. "fuck," he breathes.

"If you want me to," BJ says with a grin in his voice. Hawkeye clings to him and nods, spreading his legs further as BJ slips an experimental finger inside him. FUCK. He's so warm, so wet and wanting, and he grips BJ's finger with an instinct or a skill BJ didn't know was possible.

Hawk opens his mouth and tries to make a sound that could be construed as a word. "More," he rasps. "Need more. Please."

"You know what I want?" BJ murmurs, curling his fingers to the best of his ability (Hawk still has him in a vice grip, and he can't tell whether he's helping or prolonging it, but the amount of squirming and moaning seems to indicate he's on the right track).

"What?" Hawk pants.

"I want you to jack off while I'm inside you." _Jack off_ \- not words he ever says, so locker room, so much casual bravado, and BJ's never felt casual about sex like that, but he needs Hawk to know that he hasn't lost him, that just because he's soaked to the wrist doesn't mean he's forgotten he's fucking the most beautiful man he's ever seen.

Hawk practically convulses at the unfamiliar words, biting BJ's shoulder. When he catches his breath, he has just enough wherewithall to admit, "I'm not sure I can take you."

BJ wiggles his fingers again, prompting a grunt that's half squeal. "I'm not sure exactly how much you think you're taking now, but that's an awfully generous assumption," he says lightly. "You've got three, and you know my hands aren't small."

Hawk reaches for BJ's cock with something like greed in his eye, but BJ blocks his hands and wraps them into an embrace. "Not that I don't appreciate it," he says, kissing the side of Hawk's neck. "But I'm not done with your cock."

 

*

 

The bandages wrapped around Hawk's chest are puckered at the edges and graying slightly. BJ runs a concerned finger around the bottom edge. "How long have you been wearing this?"

Hawk rolls his eyes. "Two days, maybe. Not that long."

BJ pulls away in horror. "We don't even do that to patients with _cracked ribs_ ," he hisses. "You're going to hurt yourself."

Hawkeye shrugs. "S'better than the alternative. And everyone knows I have back pain."

"Hawk..." BJ pulls him close again, rubbing his palm over the layer of bandages on his back. Hawkeye sighs into his hair and kisses his temple.

"Beej, you gotta remember how much longer I've been doing this. I know what I'm doing. If it hurts, I've decided it's worth it, and you can't try to rescue me when I'm not stranded."

"I can try," BJ harrumphs. Hawkeye chuckles knowingly at his ear.

"Beej," he says, lying back and folding his arms behind his head. "You are a guy's dream, you know that?"

BJ blushes. "Look," he says. "I don't know what you're afraid of. I promise, no matter what's under there - " his voice drops to his most earnest, gentle cadence - "I see you. I promise."

Hawkeye smiles and blushes. "I know you do. I really do. But it's less about what you see and more about what I see."

BJ nods, and then perks up. "We could put blankets over the window," he says eagerly. "So you wouldn't have to see."

Hawk raises an eyebrow. "You're really into this idea, aren't you?"

BJ knows he shouldn't push it, knows he's only gotten this far because he's got the patience of a reservoir, but the thought needles at him, makes him tick. "Just so you could breathe," he insists. "Just so I could make sure there's no fungus growing under there."

Hawkeye sighs. "OKAY. Fine. Ya wore me out. But I'm not moving," he says, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that makes BJ want to tickle him.

BJ busies himself hanging the blankets, and as the last shred of light fades from his dorm room, he gets to his hands and knees and crawls, feeling around for Hawkeye. When they find each other, they stop to kiss, long and slow. Now that BJ knows where they're going, he's okay with a detour, with taking time to get there. They kiss and kiss, hands on skin in hair, breath coming in stolen gasps.

And then Hawk pulls away, keeping BJ's hand in his. BJ hears him fumbling, a soft gasp, and then one very long, very deep sigh. BJ doesn't dare reach for fear of touching something wrong, but he squeezes Hawk's hand.

"I could listen to you breathe like that all day."

They sit like that in the dark for awhile, holding hands, breathing long and deep. BJ tentatively walks his fingers up Hawkeye's wrist, forearm, traces his bicep, lands on his shoulder.

"Hawk?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming." He shuffles over, his hand groping in the dark and landing on BJ's face, fingers outstretched. BJ giggles and chomps on his fingers, keeping his hands exactly where they are.

"You goofball."  
"Naw, I was definitely a lacrosse player."  
"You were."  
"Say, what were you?"  
"Not a lacrosse player, I'll tell you that."  
"No, but really - what did you do in high school?"  
There's a long pause before Hawkeye says, very softly. "Hid."

BJ loses it and reaches his arms wide, clasping them around Hawk's back and bringing him close again. "Never," he whispers, rocking Hawk in his arms. "Never, never, never. Not with me." They're pressed close enough that he can feel Hawk's chest, the unusual bulk between them, and hugs him tighter.

*

The first time he touches Hawk's nipple, it's an accident, one he's prepared to apologize for, but the sound Hawk makes tells him it might not be warranted. He drops his hand, goes back to stroking his side, his back, whatever neutral skin he can reach (though really, does it count as neutral if it feels like his hand's prickled with sparks every time they touch?)

Hawk feels, like he has at least ten times before, with BJ, like he's dancing on the edge of something dangerous. But every time he's taken the leap, BJ has caught him handily, like there's no effort involved. It's never been like this. Even Carlye, Carlye who called him Hawkeye, who switched his pronouns so easily and never messed up once; Carlye who defended him to his parents and let him hide in her room for almost a week after. Even Carlye caught her breath when she saw him naked, and he could see the effort it took to wrench her mind back into order, how deliberately she had to say his name when she looked at him.

He thought that was the best it could be. Hell, he'd never known anyone who had it better.

BJ's kissing his neck, sucking at the sweet spot by his shoulder. Hawk arches and leans back so his lips fall lower, puts a steady hand on the back of BJ's head to assure him it's okay.

BJ nips at the soft skin, noting the difference in its smell, musty and grimy, but he licks it anyway, gets his teeth on Hawk's nipple and this time it's no accident. Hawk gasps and falls back mouthing "fuck, oh _fuck_ , _Beej_ , fuck." BJ responds by dipping his fingers between Hawk's legs and grinning.

"You liked that." It is not a question.

"Yeah," Hawkeye's panting slightly, his chest rising and falling higher than BJ's ever felt it. " _Fuck_."

 

*

 

BJ loves it most when Hawk rides him on his lap, the way he can feel his thighs working, the closeness, the kisses he presses to Hawk's neck, his sternum, the way Hawkeye throws his head back and straight-up loses it as he grinds on BJ's cock. Loves the opportunity for filth and flirtation as he traces a finger down Hawk's spine, and then lower, until Hawk sits bolt upright.

"Whoa, Beej, you hit something electric there. Careful you don't get shocked."  
BJ cackles. "You ever thought about it?"  
"About...?"  
BJ pulls his head down roughly so his ear's level with his lips. "About being filled from both sides." Hawk gives one of those full-body shudders that BJ loves so much.  
"Yes," he whispers back before self-consciousness stops him.

*

"Hey," BJ says softly, rubbing a light hand over the curve of Hawk's ass in his boxer briefs. "when was the last time somebody...y'know, got their mouth on you?"

Hawk shivers at the thought, grinding harder into the muscle of BJ's thigh. "I, uh, I don't think about it much. It was back - a long time ago."

"Before this?" BJ guesses. Hawk nods against his shoulder, distracting him by kissing the spot on his neck that makes him swoon. It takes BJ a minute to come back, but he's got an idea that won't let go.

"What if I told you I've been dreaming about my tongue on your cock?" he whispers. "About sucking it. Sucking you off."

Hawk freezes for a second. BJ can't quite tell if the sound coming from around his shoulder is a sob or a moan.

"We don't have to," he whispers. "I didn't mean to - "

"Beej," Hawk interrupts. "I don't know how you make me want things I'd told myself I'd never want again, but - It's not that I don't want it, Beej. I'm - I'm _starving_ for it," Hawk confesses, muttering into his ear and squirming on his lap. "I've just never been with a guy who could...go there. And still see me after. And not get confused."

"You must've been with some extremely imaginative men," BJ says, cupping Hawk's ass and situating him more directly over the bulge in his shorts, "Because I don't think I could ever imagine you being someone you're not. You're more than a man, Hawk. You're you."

Hawkeye groans and squirms in BJ's lap, hips rutting against him in little jerks. "May I?" BJ whispers, and Hawkeye nods into his shoulder. BJ shoves him off his lap - Hawk loves it when he gets a reminder that BJ can just toss him around - and reaches for his boxer briefs. "Spread 'em," he grunts hoarsely and Hawkeye complies with a moan, shoving a knuckle between his teeth in anticipation.

BJ presses his mouth against Hawk and draws in as much as he can, flicking his tongue over the tip - noting, with impressed amusement, that Hawk has definitely grown. He can feel Hawk's pulse in his mouth, breathes as deep as he can as Hawkeye's fingers find the roots of his hair.

Hawkeye's voice is shaky, whether with trepidation or arousal, BJ isn't sure, but when Hawk whispers, "oh _fuck_ , that's it, suck my cock" it sets BJ's head spinning with all the possibilities.

*

Hawkeye slips into BJ's room, thanking once again whatever gods have given his boyfriend the empty double and the extra bed. BJ is passed out in the double-twin-turned-king, sprawled and snoring lightly. Hawk smiles. He kicks off his shoes and shimmies out of his jeans before crawling into bed.

BJ wraps a sleepy arm around him, and, as he wakes up, runs his hand over Hawk's chest. "Hawk." The voice is groggy but pointed.

"I'm fine," Hawkeye whispers. "Go back to sleep."

BJ's fingers find the hem of his shirt. "Not sleeping til you give your ribs a break."

Hawkeye sighs, does a little emotional calculus, decides it wouldn't be the worst thing to take a night off. Besides, it's _Beej_. He's not going to be weird if he wakes up with Hawk's chest at his back, right?

He pulls the shirt over his head. BJ sits up, fully awake now, and gently unclips the ace bandage from where he'd fastened it that morning at Hawk's back. The unwinding is slow going, but it isn't more than a few seconds before Hawk gives that deep sigh, the first sign of a full breath he's been able to take all day. BJ finds himself breathing with him, in rhythm, as the last layers of bandage come off.

Hawk slips back into the baggy tshirt and lies down. BJ curls behind him, slips a hand under his shirt, and rubs his thumb over the hairless silk of Hawkeye's stomach. He kisses the spot behind Hawkeye's hear right where his hair forms the most tempting little curl.

Hawk wriggles his ass playfully against BJ's hips. "You're not asleep," he teases. "Or at least, some part of you isn't."

"You wanna do something about it?" Beej asks. "You don't have to, you know."

Hawkeye rolls over, folds his hands behind his head. "I've never seen you jack off."

BJ swallows hard, feels the blush spreading hot over his face.

"Would you let me?" Hawk continues. "Because I want to watch. I want to watch you and touch myself while you touch yourself and know you're getting at least as much out of watching me as I am watching you." He's got a hand in his boxers and BJ drops his hand lower, covers Hawk's hand, feels him moving under the fabric, wants to touch, wants to see. But Hawk's made the rules of engagement clear tonight. If he's going to get off, it's going to be on his own.

Well, with an audience.

BJ rolls onto his back, keeping his eyes on Hawk's knuckles showing through the fabric and sighs into a groan, slipping his shorts over his hips. His cock is already weeping with it when he gets a hand on it, forcing himself to go slow, be patient, enjoy the sight of Hawk's lip between his teeth, small, high noises coming from his throat. BJ can practically feel Hawk's wetness in his own fingers as he speeds his hand, wanting to catch up. Wanting to see who'll go over the edge first, who can hold back the longest. Hawk's starting to shake already. BJ knows he won't last long.

"Want you," he mouths across the inches between them. Hawk closes his eyes.

"Yeah?" he responds, all breathily and distant. "Tell me."

"Want my mouth on you. Want to feel you come in my mouth. Feel you pulsing under my tongue while my chin gets wet, want you grabbing my hair and showing me how you like it."

Hawk moans softly. "Not - fair. You bastard."

"Two could play that game," BJ says, his own voice tightening.

"Too distracted to distract you," Hawk replies, slowing his hand. "'Specially if I'm gonna win."

*

Hawkeyes's in deep; he knows that. He's slow to react, to find words, and his muscles are even more relaxed than they are when he's sleeping. BJ doesn't know exactly why clapping a hand over Hawk's mouth sends him to this place, but it's definitely a useful shortcut. He's got Hawk between his legs, feels him strain against BJ's hand, then sag back like a rubber band, like he's proven to himself that he couldn't get away if he tried.

Not that he'd want to, given what BJ's doing with his other hand. His fingers are so slippery he can barely get enough friction (Hawk likes a little friction) and every time BJ growls something in his ear - "I love how much you want this, all spread out for me," or "You're being so good," more slick spills from him in a cycle of ache and flush.

BJ shifts to guide Hawk onto his back, plays his fingers against Hawk's entrance, a question. A request. Hawk responds by lifting his hips toward BJ's hand, a vauge "uh-huh," coming out with an exhaled breath. BJ slips two fingers in. Three. There's so much space, where usually Hawk is clenched, nervous, uncertain until he's well worked over. Not tonight.

He mouths the word 'more,' arching and leaning into it. BJ ripples his fingers and Hawk grunts from the back of his throat, twisting from side to side. BJ grabs Hawk's wrist and guides his hand down. "Touch," he urges in a whisper, "it'll make it easier to take."

Hawk struggles to catch his breath, nodding, shaking fingers tracing short strokes as BJ eases in his smallest finger to join the rest.

BJ reaches for the lube bottle for what feels like the fifteenth time, squeezing out another dollop over the widest part of his hand. Hawk's gone still, whimpering, teeth gritted together.

"Do you want me out?" BJ whispers again. Hawk shakes his head. "Okay, ok. You're okay. This is the toughest part, the widest part. You're right on my knuckles, sweet boy. I just need you relax a liiiitle bit, just a little, can you do that for me?" He coaxes and encourages, but Hawk just gets tighter and tenser and drier around him until BJ starts to fear really hurting him. He tries to pull out, but that seems to hurt just as much.

He adds more lube, trying to spread it around. Hawk's panting, and not in a good way - he's breaking out in a sweat. BJ reaches up and cups his cheek, stroking his chin with his thumb. "I've got you, Hawk. I've got you." Hawk nods, trying to slow his breath. BJ instinctively presses his thumb to Hawkeye's lips. Hawk kisses the pad of his thumb and then - by instinct, idea, or impulse - leans over and starts sucking BJ's thumb. BJ's eyes widen as he feels Hawk begin to relax, the tiniest bit of give around his knuckles.

He slides his thumb out and replaces it with his index and middle fingers, and as Hawk's mouth stretches around his hand, BJ can feel him relax. Open. Yield. He slides the rest of his hand in, feeling his fingers curl naturally into a loose fist once he's inside.

Hawk pulls off his fingers and opens his eyes. Stunned, exhilarated, terrified and wild. BJ holds up his other hand in front of Hawk's face and shows him the shape of it, his thumb tucked into the fist. He squeezes his fingers together inside Hawk, and mimics the motion with his outside hand so Hawk can see and feel it at the same time.

"Fuuuuck," Hawkeye moans. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, Beej - fuck."

BJ stares at his wrist as if he can't figure out where the rest of his hand has gone. His other hand rests gently on Hawkeye's thigh, petting him, reaching whatever he can soothe.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Stop - asking - I - told - you. I'm fiiiiiiiiiiiine." Hawkeye descends into a giggle. "I'm so fine, Beej, you have no idea."

Great. He's gone from deep to high in eight second flat. BJ smiles. "What do you think happens now?"

"I don't know, exactly. I've never quite made it to this point."

BJ reaches for the lube again - it's nearly empty, but he manages to land a few drops on Hawk's cock. Hawk flinches at the cold. "You suggesting something?"

"Mhmm. Want to try something but I think it'll be easier if you're, ah, distracting yourself."

Hawk obligingly starts stroking himself, sliding his cock between two fingers. BJ turns his wrist a quarter degree to the left, then to the right, tiny movements that have Hawkeye swearing in seconds. "Fuck, Beej, I have no idea what you're doing but whatever it is don't stop." He's still doing his best to keep his hips still - BJ understand the impulse - but has gone back to shaking his head back and forth, trying to clear what must be a whole lot of overload.

"You tell me when it's too much," BJ murmurs, reaching up as far as he can to press his fingertips to Hawk's lips for another kiss. Hawk nods. BJ keeps moving his fist ever so slightly, trying to replicate the movements that make Hawk's voice crack. "Fuck!" he squeaks when BJ accidentally leans forward too much and drives his fist a hair too far. "Fuck, it's so much, it's so much, I want it all, I want you, I want you I - " he breaks off suddenly, and BJ can feel it before Hawk does, the tension, the squeeze, the impossible, crushing force of Hawk coming around his fist. BJ gasps, winces, and moans with Hawkeye as they ride out his orgasm together.

Fuck.

BJ works his hand out as slowly as he can until Hawkeye grabs a pillow and starts swearing loudly into it, which prompts him to move faster than he wants to. As soon as he's down to his fingertips, Hawk starts breathing normally again, curling upon his side with a groan.

BJ rips his glove off and flings it somewhere in the vague direction of not-the-bed and scrambles up to hold him. Hawk curls against his chest, shivering a little. BJ pulls up the blankets, tucks them in, and pulls Hawk into his arms, rocking and shushing.

"Beej?"

"Yeah?"

"That was -"

"Yeah. That was."

"I like this part, too."

BJ squeezes him tightly. "Me too."

Eventually, BJ rolls onto his back and Hawk curls up with an ear pressed to his chest, his breath falling into sync with BJ's pulse. They drift in and out of sleep, waking almost just to reassure themselves that the other is still there.

When BJ wakes for real, he's curled on his side and Hawk is behind him, an arm slung across his waist. BJ's almost never the small spoon, but this morning, he relishes the fact that Hawk lets himself break under his hands - trusts him like that, lets him in like that - and the next morning, wakes up holding him like he's the precious one.

Hawk presses a sleepy kiss to his shoulder, and pulls BJ a hair closer, rocking him slightly with a soft "shh." BJ closes his eyes and lets him.

*  
The night before the surgery, Hawk lets BJ touch him in ways he rarely has before. He invites BJ to kiss his chest, to mark it, and BJ more than willingly obliges, painting a map of bite marks and bruises over soft skin. He savors the way Hawk writhes against him, how he can nearly make Hawk come with his teeth on his nipples alone. He grabs the bottle of bourbon from under the bed and pours a shot over Hawk's chest , licking, lapping, sucking, as Hawk moans with his fist in his hair. When BJ finally turns his attention south, he finds Hawk's boxer briefs soaked, teasing his fingers over the wet cotton until Hawkeye has enough, flips him over (with more than a little cooperation on BJ's part) and climbs on top of him, grinding on his cock in a warm, wet tease.

How the night ended with BJ begging, he still hasn't figured out.

"Please, Hawk - please, oh fuck. Oh _fuck._ "

"Please what?"

"Please - fuck - I want you. I need you. I need you so fucking much I can't fucking stand it, please just - " _fuck me,_ he wants to say, but is that what it's called, like this? Hawk's kneeling, straddling his hips, grinding on his cock and BJ is so fucking close. He'd give anything if Hawk would just -

"Let me in." His voice catches as he says something unexpectedly vulnerable, but quickly turns it back toward begging. "Let me in, Hawk. Please. I need you. I need you so bad, just let me in."

Hawk shudders and takes a hold of his cock, slowly, slowly, guiding it inside him.

He never fucks Hawk on his back. Somehow, it's been embedded in them, every movie, every magazine: girls get fucked on their backs, and so they don't. BJ sometimes feels guilty for how much he wishes - just sometimes - he could throw Hawk down on the bed, climb on top of him, and fuck him belly-to-belly. How much he'd love the feel of Hawk's heels and fingers digging into his back. But he won't say it, not yet. Hawkeye's still too skittish, still not convinced that BJ won't wake up one day and wish he was with a girl. Wish Hawkeye was more of a girl.

It's not like he's called himself straight for months, but twenty years of conditioning doesn't go away overnight, right?

So instead, he's the one on his back, with the glorious vision of Hawkeye riding him, thighs tensed, eyes closed, fingers moving tight over his cock as BJ, well, lies back and takes it. Gratefully. Gladly. Gleefully. Pretending that he doesn't see the edge of Hawkeye's security, the quiet, barely-suppressed expectation that it's all going to shatter any moment when BJ figures out what's really going on.

"I love you, Hawk," he says, and they're the easiest words he's ever said. Hawkeye comes with a long, deep groan, falling over BJ, letting him hold him through the aftershocks, and for a moment, belly-to-belly, BJ thinks, "Someday. You'll understand how much I want you to hold me like this."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College EMT boys in a small town. Featuring bravery, claustrophobia, and Daniel Pierce, Doctor Dad Extraordinaire.

The sound grows at the edges of BJ's dream until he's fully awake - a one-note siren that climbs higher and higher until it's impossible to ignore. He stirs in the tiny bed as a knock comes to the door.

"Boys?" Daniel sounds groggy, but alert. "Hawkeye, let's go!"

Hawk sits bolt upright. "Oh, shit," he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah, Dad, wait for me, I'll be out in a sec."

"What's going on?" BJ whispers.

"Welcome to the town that telephone service forgot," Hawk says blearily, stumbling into the pants he left on the floor last night. "Or at least forgot until 1948. You're hearing the town alarm. That's how they call the volunteers to a town emergency. Come on. We can probably use you. Your first real Crabapple Cove debut."

"Use me?"

"Yeah. That long, unbroken siren means they need medical personnel. S'why Dad was so happy when we decided to do the EMT course. He finally gets company on these things."

"How do we know where to go?" BJ asks, struggling into his clothes. "What are we supposed to do?"

"The siren calls us to the firehouse and from there we go out to the scene," Hawk explains. "Once a month, Dad pulls a shift at the firehouse so he can be first on the scene if he needs to. Dad!"

They hurry down the stairs. Daniel's waiting at the bottom with a thermos of coffee. "Three minutes, Hawk. About 90 seconds too long. Let's go."

The ride through the breaking dawn is beautiful, but BJ can only hear the thrum in his ears. He never imagined he'd have to do anything with that EMT certificate, at least not yet. It's only a few minutes until they pull in to the station. There are several cars already there. Daniel grabs his doctor's bag from the trunk and starts jogging toward the firehouse door. BJ and Hawk follow.

"What've we got, Hank?" he calls to a young, burly man in his 20s in fireman's overalls and a white undershirt. 

"Doc!" he says with some relief. "You brought help? We need hands. Sick tree came down by the Johnson's, crushed the roof right over the kids' room. Mary's going ballistic and we've only got eyes on two of them."

"The baby?" Daniel asks evenly as they head for the ambulance together.

"We can hear her crying and the big one - what's her name? - says she's okay, but we've got nothing on the boys." 

"Angelie," Daniel mutters. "Angelie 11, Mikey 9, Johnny 3 and the baby is....Ruthie. Should be about 10 months now. Okay, let's go, Hank."

There are two other people waiting by the ambulance, both women in their early 30s. BJ notes their coordinating flannels and short hair with a certain measure of warm satisfaction. "Jen, Karen, take Hawkeye and her friend," Hank says. "Doc's coming with me."

"His," BJ mutters under his breath. "His friend." Hawk hears him, squeezes his hand and shakes his head. 

"S'ok Beej," he whispers. "More important things at hand.”

 

They pile into Jen and Karen's Prius and follow the ambulance through the quickly lightening streets. As they round a corner, BJ's stomach drops - there's a house with a tree down, collapsed part of the roof, just as Hank said. A couple stands in the yard with a few neighbors around them. As they climb out of the car and ambulance, BJ can hear an eerie, high wail coming from the cluster.

"Doc!" One of the neighbors comes running. "We gotta get them out - where's the fire guys?"

"On their way, Jim, I promise," Daniel says grimly. "We should be okay though. We brought some good young bucks and we're going to get started right now."

Hank passes around hard hats to the five of them. "We may need all of us, or there may not be room," he explains. "If that's so, then Doc stays out, Karen stays out, and new guy stays out. Jen and Hawk, we may need smaller bodies to get through. Be ready.

BJ sees Hawkeye break into a sweat, taking a deep breath. Right. Small spaces. Shit.

They get into the house and up to the second floor easily enough. Hank, now in full fire gear, explains things in a rush as they climb the stairs. "Okay, you all listen good- if you hear anything - and I mean anything - that sounds like a pop, hiss, crackle or even a puff of air, you tell me IMMEDIATELY, understand? And then you get the hell out of the house.

"Got it," say the volunteers in one breath.

They stop at the top of the stairs. The tree has broken through two rooms and come into the hallway, branches everywhere. Hank carefully starts climbing through toward the doorway. 

Hawkeye's father bangs on the wall with his fist. "Angelie!" he hollers. "Mikey? Johnny? It's Doctor Dan and Hank the Fireman, can you hear me?"

They all pause as a voice comes from the far end of the hall. "Doc?" 

Daniel lurches instinctively through the branches, taking a few hits to the face as he scrambles toward the voice. "I've got you, Angelie," he calls. "I'm coming."

"Doc!" Hank stays at his heels, whacking through the brush and BJ, Jen, Karen and Hawkeye pick their way through. "Me first."

"She's going to be scared when she sees you in that getup," Daniel says through gritted teeth. 

"That only happens when there's smoke. She knows me, Dan. Come on, let me by."

"She could have injuries."

"Dad!" Hawkeye calls, his voice sharp. Daniel shakes his head briefly, and looks toward his son. "You ok, Hawk?"

"Let Hank do it his way. We'll get to them, Dad. We'll get there."

The trunk of the tree hangs in the middle of the doorway, making a tight squeeze to go under and an impossible hurdle to go over. "Actually, Dan, neither of us are getting through this," Hank mutters. "Angelie, honey, it's Hank the fireman! Can you hear me?"

"Yes!" 

"Do you have the baby with you?"

There's a long pause and then Angelie's voice comes through the thickness in a barely-held-back wail. "She won't wake up!" 

"Damnit!" Daniel swears, hitting the tree trunk. "Angelie, it's Doctor Dan. Can you see her face clearly? Can you tell if she's breathing?"

"I don't know!" comes a sob. "It's dark and I can't see anything."

BJ feels a tide of sobs rising in his chest on a wave of adrenaline. Behind him, Hawkeye puts a hand on his back. "Move. I can get through that space on the bottom. Dad!" 

Daniel and Hank look back as Hawkeye makes his way up. "Does this thing have a flashlight?" he asks, tapping his helmet.

"You can have mine," Hank says, swapping out and turning the light on. 

"Hawkeye - " BJ protests feebly. "Dr. Pierce, he's not good in small spaces, you know that!" 

Daniel puts a steady hand on Hawkeye's shoulder and looks him dead in the eye. "You go in there and panic, we have a worse problem on our hands, you understand that?"

Hawkeye nods. "I can do it." 

Daniel gives him one more long look, then nods to BJ and Hank. "Let him go."

It takes Hawkeye less than a minute to slither under the tree, pulling himself on scrawny elbows and knees. 

"Angelie!" Hank calls. "We're a little too big to come in right now but we're sending Hawkeye in for you. You remember Hawkeye?"

"Of course she does," Daniel says. "She - he - babysat that kid through high school. Thought he hung the moon."

Just then, everyone hears footsteps. "Hank?" someone calls. "We've got backup."

"Get your asses up here!" Dan yells back. Hank silences him with a look. 

"We need chainsaws and extraction equipment in a hurry, boys. We still haven't found the other two and the baby may be in distress."

Just then, Angelie's voice breaks through, crying hard. 

"I've got her!" Hawkeye's voice is muffled. "She's okay, lots of cuts and scrapes and possibly a broken ankle."

"WHAT ABOUT THE BABY?!" Daniel and Hank shout together.

Hawkeye's voice wavers on the edge of breaking. "Shallow breath, pulse thready, but both there. I'm bringing her first."

They all let out a breath. "Hawk?" Daniel calls. "You see the boys?" 

They hear Hawk struggling under the branches, making his way to the front. As soon as he hits the doorway, he passes the baby over the tree to Daniel. 

"Karen, get over here," he says, climbing back to the top of the stairs. "BJ, you too. I'll need you to keep her steady."

The fireman pass them on the way up. "Okay, everybody out, unless you're in fire gear," Hank calls. "We'll get them out to you as soon as we can, Doc."

"You won't find me," Daniel calls up the stairs. "We're taking the bus and heading straight for the hospital. She can't wait. Jen can drive. Karen and the boys are going to have to handle the others."

BJ breaks into a cold sweat.

They get outside as fast as they can. Hawkeye's sweaty and scratched, but he doesn't stop until he closes the ambulance doors and raps them with the flat of his hand to tell Jen to head out. He, BJ and Karen stand in the yard while the neighbors rush over. Karen calmly gives the update while Hawkeye and BJ wait by the porch. 

Suddenly, Hawkeye turns toward the flower beds and starts gagging. He gets to his hands and knees, stomach heaving as he retches into the tulips. BJ rubs a hand over his back, looking up at the neighbors, not wanting them to see. "Easy, Hawk," he says. "You did it. You got her out."

Just then, another firefighter comes out to the porch with Angelie in his arms. BJ runs to meet them. 

"Hi," he says cheerfully as the firefighter hands her over. "I'm BJ. You must be that brave girl we all heard upstairs."

"Where's Ruthie?" she demands first thing, voice still shaking. "Where's Doctor Dan? Where's -" her voice breaks again " - where's Hawkeye?"

"I'm right here, Angie-pie," comes a voice behind them. "You didn't think I'd ditch you, did you? I just let this big guy handle all my heavy lifting. Let's go put you down and get a look at that ankle."

"And Ruthie is with Doctor Dan," BJ explains as their parents run over across the yard.

"ANGELIE!" Mrs. Johnson flies to BJ's side and kisses Angelie's head, still crying. "Angelie, are you okay? Where are the boys?"

"I don't know," Angelie admits. "The roof came down and cut the room in half and I couldn't hear them or see them, I just had Ruthie."

"Mary," Hawkeye says gently. "You can stay with us, but let us put her down and clean her up and look at that ankle, okay?"

Mrs. Johnson seems to notice Hawkeye for the first time. "Hi, Hawkeye," she says, her voice a thousand years old. "Taking up the family trade?" 

"That's the plan, if folks like you keep giving us good business," he says with a grin. "She's okay, Mary, my dad saw her before we came out. We're just going to splint her ankle and Karen will give you all a ride to the hospital as soon as we get the boys out, ok? They're looking for them now."

The neighbors bring blankets, and someone sets up a folding cot in the yard. First aid supplies appear from the surrounding houses once it becomes clear that Jen and Daniel have absconded with everything else. BJ straddles the end of the cot, letting Angelie sit up and lean against him as Hawk splints her twisted ankle. 

Gd, he loves Hawk like this - competent, calm, brave. There's no way he doesn't love him, but there's nothing like this rush of fierce, adoring respect that flooded him the entire time they took the stupid EMT class, listening to Hawk rattle off anatomy and making up dirty mnemonics to remember the steps of identifying strokes.

Finally, Hawkeye ties off the splint with a flourish and offers Angelie her choice of bandaids - the neighbors have pulled together an impressive array of cartoon characters - for the cuts on her arms. She doesn't really need them, BJ realizes, but Hawk's looking for ways to make her feel cared for, and it warms him.

They leave Angelie with her parents and wander back toward the car, away from everyone. Suddenly, Karen comes running out the door. 

"They found the boys!" she cries. "They're okay!"

A round of applause goes up among the neighbors as Mary breaks into fresh sobs of relief. Hawkeye and BJ look over at her, expecting some duties to be delegated, but she shakes her head. 

"Miracle of miracles," she says to them quietly. "The roof came down with the tree and formed a little tent around them. They've barely got a scratch. Now it's just getting them out of there that's the hard part. That's why they sent me back out here."

She turns away from the crowd, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and lighting one. Hawkeye scoffs. "Really, Karen?"

She raises her eyebrows mildly. "Do as I teach you in middle school health class, not as I do," she retorts. She turns her attention to BJ. "So, new guy. Whatcha think of the Crabbapple Cove nightlife?"

The Johnson's neighbors insist on having Hawkeye and BJ for breakfast, since Karen's headed to the hospital with the Johnsons. Hawkeye and BJ wolf down a stack of pancakes and apple cider before begging a ride home.

Hawkeye calls Daniel from the road. "He says he'll be home soon," Hawk says, sliding his phone into his pocket and leaning against BJ, nuzzling him in the back seat. "Thanks for the ride, Bob."

Bob tips an imaginary hat to them as they climb out of the car.

As soon as BJ hits the front stairs, his legs turn to jelly. He wobbles a second. "Hawk?" he calls, sitting down and putting his head between his knees.

Hawkeye's hand on his back feels like a quilt. "Adrenaline crash. Gets me every time."

"Every time?"

He can hear Hawkeye's smile. "This is the first time I got to go be helpful, but I would stay up all night worrying when he got the call, especially if it was a fire. Hit me the same way every time he got home."

BJ nods. 

"Let me get you to bed. It'll help." Hawkeye swings BJ's arm around his narrow shoulders and stands him up. "There we go, one-and-two." BJ practically crawls up the stairs and climbs into Hawkeye's bed. 

"Hawk?"

"Hang on, I've just got to - there. There we are." He comes out from under his bed with an armload of thick, dusty fabric. "Blackout curtains. I'll put them up in my dad's room and then here. We're going to be nocturnal for a day or two."

BJ nods, yawning. Hawk stops to pull the blanket up to his chin and drop a kiss on his head.

"Sleep well, my brave rescue man," he says, gentle and teasing.

BJ reaches out to clumsily grope at him as he turns away to start hanging curtains. "No," he protests. "Come here. Sleep here."

"I'm coming," Hawk says, his voice fading as BJ closes his eyes. "I'm comin' for you, Beej."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another whiplash turn. our heroes watch a movie and get them some queer history feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for all of us who needed this thing for reasons that had nothing to do with a television show.

Hawk and BJ stumble out of the auditorium, loosely holding hands in a way that's far more leaning on each other than it looks. The other students - the queer ones, the ones not at the screening of this film for film class, or history class, or women's studies - look the way BJ feels. Haunted. Punched up from the inside. They find Maggie and Lorraine, who look as lost as they feel. The four of them wander to the dock by the river where the crew boats are stored, laying heads on each others' stomachs and holding hands as they watch the stars come out. Nobody talks much.

It's BJ who starts to cry first, something nameless and sour filling his chest until the tears come, slipping out the corners of his eyes and running down his temples. He curls on his side to ease the sudden stuffiness in his nose and hears the others shifting, sitting up, looking. Feels the soft laying of all their hands, Hawk easing his head back into his lap and stroking his hair.

There are no words for this. Maggie is the second to cry, then Hawkeye. Lorraine shakes, hugs her knees, rocking.

In an hour, they'll exchange kisses, tender lips to foreheads and cheeks, and part ways. Hawk and Beej will head back to the dorm, crawl under the covers naked, cry some more. When Hawk's lips find his neck, BJ will gasp, clinging to him, needing him, whispering his name in a litany of gratitude.

It's the night that Hawkeye takes him on his back, slowly, BJ's arms gathered under Hawk's shoulders, Hawk's legs around his hips, BJ's eyes asking _are you sure_ and Hawk nodding once, twice, again, groaning as BJ fills him. They stop crying. BJ comes unusually quickly, relishing the snap of his hips, how his body covers Hawkeye's like a shield. He comes, whispering "mine," Hawk mouthing "yours, yours, yours" against the skin of his throat.

They get to have this. Hawk gets to be seen and loved and known. BJ gets to be held, acknowledged, understood. There is something acutely painful about carrying all the ones who didn't get to have this in the memory of their bodies. That them fucking tonight isn't as much an act of love as reparation. As justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real question, dear reader is: what movie did they watch?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back to the smut

Hawkeye squirmed against BJ's thigh, trying to angle the seam of his jeans just right. BJ laid a steadying hand on his hip.

"Hey," he muttered. "You're being kind of obvious."

Hawk stopped, sagging back against his chest. "Can't help it," he whined quietly. "I blame the hormones."

BJ chuckled into Hakweye's shirt, rubbing a reassuring hand over his thigh. "Just a little longer," he promised. "Then I'll take you home and take care of you."

The concert started shortly after, making it easy to pretend Hawkeye was dancing, and not still trying to rub one out on BJ's jeans. The music - Lorraine's West African Drumming class recital - crashed over them in the best way as BJ felt his pulse following the drums. The teacher got them all up and taught them a dance, a jumble of mostly-white students desperately tripping over their own feet in an attempt to keep up.

The concert was over soon, as BJ promised - they'd agreed to stay for Lorraine's class, and begged off the rest. BJ offered a smile and a wave to Maggie, who cuddled a sweaty, beaming Lorraine against her side, waiting for the next act to start. Hawkeye already had a hand behind his back, a finger hooked into BJ's belt loops, leading him determinedly out of the recital hall.

They'd gotten halfway through the labyrinth of the basement of the music building when Hawkeye steered them into an empty practice room and shoved BJ against the wall, scrabbling for his belt and reaching on tiptoe to kiss his throat, the hint of collarbones offered by his v-neck.

BJ grabbed both of Hawkeye's wrists in one hand and wrestled his hands behind his back and held him there. "I don't have anything to tie you up with," he whispered. "So you're going to have to be good."

He could hear Hawk's grin as he answered. "Yes, sir."

BJ let go slowly. Hawkeye stayed with his hands back. BJ caressed his cheek, stroked his jaw with a thumb. "You're always so good for me," he said, voice sinking into a low rumble. "You know I'll give you what you need."

Hawk twisted his head, trying to get his mouth on BJ's fingers. BJ slid his hand into Hawkeye's hair with a solid grip. 

"On your knees, boy," he said softly. Hawk obeyed, stepping one foot back to keep his balance as he lowered himself to the floor.

"Good. You can put your hands up right here. But no grabbing." BJ patted his thighs, then felt Hawkeye's hands press against him, deliberate, solid. BJ stroked his head again, letting him lean into the touch. "So good," he said again. "I know you want your mouth full. Don't you?"

Hawkeye nodded frantically, leaning in to nudge at the bulge in BJ's jeans with his nose. BJ pulled him off by the hair - just an inch. "Stay where you are," he admonished. "Are you going to be good?" 

"Yessir," Hawk slurred breathily.

BJ let go and unbuckled his belt, slowly unbuttoned his fly and palmed himself through his boxers for a moment before bringing his cock out, just barely an inch from Hawkeye's lips. But instead of letting Hawk get a taste, he started stroking himself.

"Don't you dare move," he whispered, just for insurance. He heard Hawkeye swallow hard. "Open your mouth." 

Hawk couldn't resist a tiny, begging moan as he did what he was told.

BJ leaned back against the wall and stuck one foot out, heel down, toe up between Hawk's spread knees. "Here," he said, "you want to rub on something so badly? See what you can do with this." He lifted his foot to nudge Hawk's crotch with his toe, to show him what he meant.

Hawkeye got it immediately. Without moving his hands from BJ's thighs, he sank down on the toe of the boot, shifting, angling, whimpering as he got the contact he'd been desperately waiting for. BJ broke into a slow grin watching him squirm, imagining how much his muscles must be aching. "Keep your mouth open, you desperate, insatiable boy," he scolded. "This is just to keep you from losing your mind while I take care of things."

Hawk panted, friction building too slowly and inconsistently to go anywhere. "Please," he cracked out. "Please take me home, Beej."

BJ didn't break the rhythm of his strokes as he reached with his other hand to stroke Hawk's hair. "I'll take you home when you've earned it," he promised. Hawkeye ducked his head for a second, steadying himself, letting out a long, shuddery breath that broke into a moan.

BJ sped his hand, feeling himself get close. He worked his fingers back into Hawkeye's hair, not pulling. "You want to taste me, boy?" he asked, steadying his voice as much as he could. "I'm so fucking close from watching you. Feeling you all desperate and wanting. I could come in your mouth right now. Is that what you want?"

Hawkeye nodded. BJ gave a little jerk on his hair. "I can't hear you."

"Please," Hawkeye whispered, leaning back again. "I want you. In my mouth. Please." 

" _Yesssss_ " BJ said, letting go of his head and guiding his cock to Hawk's lips. Hawk took him in, nothing fancy, nothing flip. Just open, open, warm and wet. BJ's hips jerked as he came, imagining the perfect ripple of Hawk's throat as he swallowed, knuckles pressed against his teeth, trying not to cry out. 

He sagged against the wall and slid down it, pulling Hawkeye close to him. Hawkeye curled against his chest, pressing his ear to his heartbeat. "So good," BJ babbled quietly, running his hands up and down all parts of Hawk he could reach. "Gd, you're so good for me. So good to me. The best boy. The _best_." Hawkeye purred , letting BJ pull him close, soaking it in.

"Is your mouth okay?" Hawk nodded. "Are you - "

"I'm good," Hawk whispered. "Short on words, but good."

BJ squeezed him close. "What do you say," he rumbled into Hawk's ear, "I take you home and fuck you with your new toy. The blue one? With the perfectly placed ridges in it?"

"Ohhh-kayyyy" Hawk whisper-sang. BJ chuckled. 

"Beej?"

"Mmm?"

"I want that. But - "

"What is it? You want something else?"

"I want..."

"Tell me, sweet boy."

"Will you suck me off?" He asks it all in a rush, like he's afraid BJ will say no, like he hasn't had Hawk in his mouth a hundred times already. BJ racks his brain to figure out what game he's playing.

"You think you earned that?" 

Hawk's voice is cheeky. "I was so _very_ good. AND I didn't spill a drop." 

BJ grins. "Okay. You get a three minute head start. I want you stripped, spread and on my bed when I get there." 

Hawk scrambles to his feet, gives him a quick, urgent kiss. 

"Oh, and Hawk?" 

"Yes...sir?"

"Blindfold."

He can hear the deep-gut _ooof_ of Hawk playing that out in his head and smirks. 

"Yes, _sir_ "

*

t's exactly as he asked: BJ walks into his room to find Hawkeye sprawled on his back, legs spread, hands behind his head. 

"Cute blindfold," BJ says as he closes the door.

"You're the one with so many bandannas lying around. You had to know I was going to pick the red one." 

BJ tries to hide the chuckle from his voice and comes to the bed, stopping just before he gets in, taking in the lithe-limbed beauty before him. Hawk squirms.

"I can tell you're looking at me."

"Oh?"

Hawk sounds smug. "Your breathing changes."

BJ slowly leans one knee on the bed, plants his hands on either side of Hawk's hips and bends down until he's just inches from Hawk's cock. He stays there a moment, breathing intently.

"Tease."

"It's too much fun when you're this restless." BJ brushes a kiss over the inside of Hawk's thigh, feels him tremble with the strain of not twitching or kicking.

"Please, Beej?" 

"Good start, but I'm not swayed yet."

"I was so good for you. Do you know how hard I was when I got back here? How bad I want your tongue right now? I can practically imagine how it feels."

"Not just hard," BJ says quietly. Hawk's soaked briefs are next to him on the bed. "You _were_ so good."

And with that, he bends down and sucks Hawk into his mouth as much as he can as Hawk's hands find his hair and hang on tight.

Hawk is so overworked and needy he nearly comes the moment BJ gets his mouth on him. He can feel a few tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes as he cries "Oh _fuck,_ oh _fuck,_ oh _fuck,_ \- please, yes, please I'm going to - I can't stop, I can't, I can't, please, Beej, please let me come - "

BJ reaches a hand up to grab Hawk's and squeeze it twice, not wanting to lift his head, and Hawkeye goes still for just a second before he pumps his hips clear off the bed, like he wants to be deeper in BJ's mouth, like he wants BJ to swallow the way he does. BJ hums as he feels Hawkeye's cock thicken and pulse as he comes, wringing deep, throaty grunts that go straight to BJ's cock.

BJ stays with him until Hawk lays a hand on his head, then pushes it gently, as BJ starts lapping at him, savoring the feel of him on his tongue. Hawkeye starts gasping, "Beej, stop, too much, too much - " but he knows the signal, the real one, and isn't using it, so BJ keeps on as Hawk trembles and shivers and grabs a pillow to scream into.

He always wants more than he can handle. It's a good thing BJ likes to push, likes to test, likes to see him reach the edge of what he can tolerate. Three fingers, four, a fist. Two orgasms, right in a row, then a third, wrung from his overloaded, curling body while he whimpers and twitches. BJ's hit a few walls since they started dating, but he knows there are many he hasn't even come near.


	6. Chapter 6

BJ pulls out his phone and idly taps as Hawk moves down the salad bar line. He watches closely as he makes his selection, waiting for - oh, there it is. Hawkeye buckles just the tiniest bit, tray wavering in his hand. The person behind him must be asking if he's okay, because he's laughing and shrugging and pointing to his untied shoe.

BJ increases the vibration and watches him flush from across the room.

Hawk flops down next to him at the table, leaning/nudging BJ with his shoulder. "That was mean," he pouts as he spears a piece of tomato and sniffs it. "Wow, they managed to produce a piece of organic matter with as much smell as tap water. How did they even do that?" 

"Hydroponics," BJ says casually before tapping his phone in his pocket. He thinks he hears the slightest hint of vibration, but only because he's listening for it. Hawk goes quiet, stuffs the food in his mouth, closes his eyes. 

"You're looking awfully rapturous," BJ teases. "I thought it wasn't much of a tomato."

Hawk swallows, then opens his eyes, locking them directly on BJ's. His pupils are huge, dark. "What do you know. It got better." He says drily. BJ taps his phone again and Hawkeye squeezes his knees together and shuts his eyes.

"Stop, stop," he whispers, and BJ immediately shuts the vibrator off. 

"Everything ok?"

Hawk opens his eyes again and smirks. "You were the one who said I wasn't allowed to - "

"Oh, having a little trouble keeping it together?"

"Mhmm." Hawk stuffs a forkful of lettuce into his mouth without even sniffing it first. Unheard of. 

"Well," BJ says, pulling his phone out of his pocket just enough to find the lowest setting and set Hawk going. "If I recall correctly, I said you weren't allowed to come without _permission_. You could've asked."

Hawk squirms in his seat. BJ looks around, sees no one looking in their direction, and reaches between Hawkeye's legs, holding his fingers against him. 

"Fuck," Hawkeye whispers, his voice rising to a squeak. "Oh _fuck_ that's so good. I want more. Please?"

"You sure you want more?" BJ whispers, kicking the vibrations up a notch. "You want everyone here to see you come? Right here at this table? you want everyone to know what an insatiable boy you are?"

Hawk bites his lip and buries his face in his hands, hips rocking against BJ's fingers.

Someone walks by, and BJ subtly moves his hand so it's resting on Hawk's thigh, tracing circles with his thumb. Hawk puts his head down on folded arms. BJ can hear him breathing. Suddenly, he knows what he wants. He turns the vibrations back down to their lowest setting and shakes Hawkeye's shoulder.

"Come on," he mutters. "Come with me."

Hawk grabs his backpack and trots to catch up with him, sliding an arm around his waist as they leave the dining hall. BJ ruffles his hair for a minute before bending down to kiss the top of his head. 

"I _like_ you," Hawkeye announces. "Think I'll keep you."

BJ grins, squeezing him close. 

The theater is dark. The posted schedule on the door notes the next class meets there in two hours. BJ slips through a door in the wings glad for the ghost light. There's just enough light to make everything out. 

He walks Hawk to center stage and tells him to wait. BJ heads into the orchestra seats, finds himself something a few rows from the front, dead center. He kicks his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him. 

"I felt like seeing a show," he explains. "So take out your phone and find something to read to me."

Hawkeye obediently pulls out his phone and starts tapping and scrolling. "Um, does Whitman work for you?"

"Definitely."

"How much do you want me to read?"

BJ's grin is wicked. "Until you can't anymore."

"Loaf with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat," Hawkeye begins, pacing the stage. "I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently - t- -t - turn’d over upon me," he pauses to breathe as BJ's thumb moves over his phone. 

"And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your t-t-tongue to my bare-strip't heart." He stops in the middle of the stage, knees buckled slightly. He reaches a hand between his thighs as if to soothe himself.

"Keep going," BJ growls from the third row. "You're not allowed to stop."

"And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet," Hawk breathes in a rush. " _Unhhhh_ , It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved - them," he finished in a squeak.

BJ grins, sliding a palm over the bulge in his jeans, kicking the vibrations up another notch.

Hawkeye stumbles and falls to his hands and knees.

BJ gasps, then swallows a moan, watching him clutch at the stage, fingers tense, body shaking, hips undulating against the vibrations. "I beat and p-p-p-pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for - _fuck_ "

Hawk sprawls onto the stage, rolls to his back, hips pumping into the air, laughing and gasping and moaning as he rides it out. BJ eases the vibrations as he starts to come down from it, rolling onto his side and curling up, his body a small question mark.

Then - oops, did his finger just slip? - BJ ratchets it up once again and Hawkeye screams, thrusting a hand between his legs and rocking against it. BJ frees his cock and lets go of his phone, fixated on the sight of Hawk in front of him, completely undone. It doesn't take long before he's shooting into his hand as Hawkeye comes a second time.

He stops the vibration completely and Hawk flops bonelessly against the stage.

"Finish," BJ calls in a ragged voice.

"Them," whispers Hawkeye. "My loudest and gayest for them."

BJ lets him lie another minute, watches his breathing come back to normal before calling to him again.

"You made a mess, boy. Get over here and clean it up."

Hawk drags himself to his feet, and BJ sees for the first time that he isn't the only one - a dark stain spreads across the crotch of Hawk's faded jeans. BJ's cock gives a halfhearted jerk at the sight, a drop more come reaching the tip. 

BJ holds out his hand as Hawkeye approaches, drops to his knees, starts licking. BJ used to feel uncertain about this - he's never met a guy who loved the taste, and Hawkeye's no exception, except that he swears it's different when he's like this. When he's not just a boy, but BJ's boy. When his mind will let him do whatever it takes to please BJ, while trusting that BJ would never use that headspace to hurt him. It's what lets him go there at all.

Hawk moans as he laps at BJ's palm and fingers, and, having cleaned them thoroughly, edges between BJ's knees and the row of seats in front of him and settles himself between BJ's legs, lifting his shirt gently to clean his stomach, and finally, his cock. BJ hisses at the contact - it's so _sensitive_ \- but Hawk is as gentle as a purr, finishing up and tucking him back in, even doing his belt for him.

He lays his head on BJ's thigh once he's done, and BJ strokes his head, whispering, "That was incredible. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. You were so good. So good for me, sweet boy."

Hawkeye mumbles something into his leg. 

"Mmm?"

" _You_ made a mess, too."

BJ grins. "So I did."

"I need a shower."

"You sure that's going to help? I've seen what you do with showerheads."

Hawk shakes his head blearily. "Nope. You wore me out. Naptime. Definitely naptime."

"Care for company?"

"Always."


	7. Chapter 7

BJ wakes up in a sweat, heart pounding, chasing his breath. He fumbles through the blankets until he finds Hawkeye, curled up in a nest on the other side of the bed. Hawkeye rolls over slowly, scrubbing the sleep from one eye with the heel of his hand.

  
"Beej?" he says. There's enough light coming through the window that he can see BJ's wide eyes, the sweat on his face, the near-tears tension in his jaw. Suddenly, he's wide awake.

  
"Beej, come here. You ok?" He scrambles through the pile of sheets and blankets comes close, but stops short of touching him, eyes searching intently.

"You have a bad dream?" BJ nods. "Can I hold you?" Another nod.

Hawkeye curls around him, throws a leg over his hips, using every limb to every possible advantage.

"You want to tell me what happened?" BJ presses his face to Hawkeye's neck, at once embarrassed and relieved, breathing longer, deeper, shuddery breaths.

"You were gone," he whispers. "Told me I wasn't good enough and you left. It was one of those dreams that was so real I'm still not sure you're not gonna do it."

Hawkeye rubs his back and kisses every inch of him he can reach without disentangling himself. "No," he says. "You're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere." BJ clings to him, embarrassed.

"You were naked," he explains. "You kept rolling your eyes at me when I wanted to touch you. Told me to keep it to myself."

"And you believed me?" Hawkeye murmurs into his ear. "Boy, have I not done enough to train you." He pulls BJ's head to his chest. "Take a good listen. Hear that? Beats for you, sweet boy.”

"Seriously though," Hawkeye says, gently scratching BJ's head - his fingers are never still, always petting, stroking, scritching, fiddling - "How often do you have dreams like that?"

"Define 'dreams.'"

"Um. The things that your subconscious projects when you're asleep?"

"Couple times a week." "Wait, what do you mean define dreams?"

"Well, there are dreams like this, and then there are the things that happen when I'm awake."

"...what things?"

"You ever drive around a steep mountain and think to yourself 'what if I just took my hands off the wheel and blew through the guardrail?'"

"Um."

"Not like you're going to do it, just that the thought appears, suddenly, and you can't unthink it."

"OH. Yeah, I get what you mean."

"That's how it happens."

"How what happens?"

"My brain suddenly interjects in the middle of - class, dinner, sex, a conversation with my uncle - and loudly proclaims that you don't love me and are definitely faking it. Or something."

"Damn, your brain is an asshole."

"...you mean your brain never does that?"

"Nope."

"You believe me when I tell you I love you?"

"Every time."

"Every time?"

"Should I be more judicious about when and how much I believe you?"

In answer to that, BJ turns over and starts tickling Hawkeye's ribs, finding the spot under his sternum that never fails to make flail.

"Uncle!" Hawkeye cries, rolling over to catch his breath. He suddenly goes quiet, serious, and leans over to kiss BJ with an intensity that seems to come out of nowhere. BJ's first startled, then yields to it, returning the kiss with fervor, their hands working their way around each other, Hawkeye's palm at the back of his head. BJ goes dizzy with it, his body stirring against Hawkeye's through his shorts. Finally, Hawkeye pulls away, looks him straight in the eye. "Tell that to your stupid brain," he says. "Now roll over. You need to go back to sleep and let me hold you in case your brain gets any other stupid ideas."


	8. Chapter 8

BJ wipes his slippery fingers on the sheets behind him, then curls up into Hawkeye's back. He's got Hawkeye on his side, one arm slid under his neck and across his chest, pulling Hawk closer to him, Hawk's top leg resting over BJ's bent knees to give him more access. BJ reaches down again, this time getting just enough purchase to grasp Hawkeye's cock between his thumb and forefinger. 

Hawk gasps, straining against BJ's arm across his chest, tries to arch into it. BJ holds him fast. 

"Be good," he growls, doing his best to get a rhythm of strokes going. "And stay quiet or I'm going to have to shush you."

That's enough to get a yelp out of Hawkeye, enough for BJ to clap his hand over his mouth, holding his head firmly in the crook of his elbow. He can see Hawkeye's face better now, eyes screwed shut, moans muffled into his palm.

"You were asking for that," he admonishes, still stroking.

"Mh-hmm" Hawkeye agrees from behind his hand. "Mmm-mmm-MMMM-HHHH" he adds as his legs begin to shake - a telltale sign of impending overwhelm, BJ knows. 

"You want me to stop?" he murmurs. Hawkeye does his best to shake his head as he tries to thrust into BJ's slicked-again fingers.

"Hmm. You want me to keep going like this?" BJ asks, stroking again. "Or you want more?"

"HNNNNMMMMGH," Hawk replies. 

"What was that?" BJ pulls his hand back from Hawk's mouth for just a second. "Was that a, 'No, sir, please, I need to be filled up like a good boy?'" 

Hawk nods vigorously, panting. 

"Say it," BJ says softly. "You don't get anything you don't ask for."

Hawkeye makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. BJ stills his hand, letting it rest gently over the slippery, swollen skin. 

"Good boys ask for what they need," BJ reminds him in a whisper. 

He can feel the battle between Hawkeye's desperation and his embarrassment, shame tangled with want, all of it conspiring to keep him silent. He's told BJ about it before, the complexities of how pleasure happens in his body. Wanting to be filled, taken. Wanting to not want it. Wondering if wanting it makes him less of what he is. BJ lets him struggle for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to help. Knowing what Hawk wants. Not willing to give it if he can't take it.

"You're my good boy," he says. "Good boys get their holes filled. Good boys can be stretched and taken and - " he pauses, searching for the word, the right word, the one that will turn Hawkeye on instead of shutting him down. " - fucked," he settles on. 

Hawkeye takes a deep breath. "Please," he gets out.

"Please what?" BJ says, pressing on. He'd do anything to make this easier, but he knows from experience that the long way is the right way. His cock is aching, demanding attention. He holds back the impulse to grind it against Hawk's ass.

"Please, sir," Hawkeye manages.

BJ responds by shoving two fingers into Hawkeye's mouth. Hawkeye moans, sucking him deep, working him over, seizing a sliver of control. 

"Is that what you wanted?" BJ teases. "Is that the hole you wanted me to fill?"

Hawkeye pauses and shakes his head. 

"Oh?" BJ says innocently, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on Hawkeye's cheek. Sometimes a little depravity works wonders for Hawk's inhibitions. 

"Fuck," Hawk whispers. "Fuck me. Please. Sir."

BJ immediately reaches back down and slips two fingers inside him, slick and tight and oh /fuck/. "Good boy," he says, curling his fingers and stroking. "Oh fuck, you're so good."

Hawkeye whimpers.

"The condoms are on your side," BJ whispers, loosening his hold for a moment. Hawk throws himself halfway across the bed, reaching, coming back with a fistful of condoms and the lube bottle. BJ laughs. 

"One at a time, maybe?" he says. "Come here. My hands are all slippery. Someone drooled all over them."

Hawk shudders. 

"Couldn't help himself," BJ continues. "All I did was ask him what he wanted and he leaked all over my hands. Insatiable. No discipline whatsoever."

Hawk scrambles to his knees, rips open the condom and puts it on with trembling hands. 

"Thank you," BJ says quietly, pulling Hawk back into his arms and kissing his head. "You need this so much, don't you? You want it so badly. And you asked for it so nicely. Now, how do you want it? Like this, on your side? Or you want to go for a ride?"

Hawk shakes his head and squirms away, shifting onto his back and pulling at BJ's wrist. BJ's eyes widen. There's only been once before. He rolls over, leans up on his elbows on top of Hawk.

"You sure?"

Hawk's only answer is to wrap his legs around BJ's hips. _Fuck._


	9. Chapter 9

BJ doesn't really know how Thursday night dinners have become a thing in the last semester, but somehow, he, Hawkeye, Lorraine and Maggie have found themselves at the same table in one of the campus's smaller cafeterias seven weeks in a row. Hawkeye always gets there first - his last class ends ten minutes before dinner starts, with the rest of them staggering in from other parts of campus. He even puts place cards up - well, his own versions. His backpack sits on his chair. The chair that's meant for Maggie always bears the biology textbook from the class before dinner. Lorraine's chair gets the beanie he wears from October til April, and BJ's chair is always draped with one of Hawkeye's oversized hoodies.

BJ always hits the salad bar first, because by then he's too hungry to wait in line at the hot stations. He piles on anything dense and filling - hard boiled eggs, grated cheese, three-bean salad, canned beets, which taste a little like dirt, and douses it all in whatever creamy dressing he grabs first. Maggie usually follows him, picking the exact opposites - cucumbers, cherry tomatoes and lettuce and chickpeas with vinaigrette. Hawkeye fills a cereal bowl with croutons and eats them like chips, one at a time with his fingers. BJ rolls his eyes and tries to sneak in a few bell peppers, which Hawk always removes with his thumb and forefinger, frowning and sniffing at it like something crawled into his bowl of salty, nutrition-less chaff and died there. Lorraine, the most dedicated carnivore of them all, holds their places in the hot line, texting them the evening's menu offerings.

It's a good night tonight - fried chicken, one of the few things the caf doesn't screw up. Lorraine brings back a veritable platter, and a side of mashed potatoes that takes up an entire plate. She slides in next to Maggie, who holds out a forkful of arugula. Lorraine opens her mouth obediently, knowing a few bites of greens will save her a lecture at the end of dinner. 

BJ loves this, the gestures, the habits, the ways in which they care for each other, small and exasperating and necessary. _I know you; I put up with your nonsense because I love you; because you love me._ He seizes a couple of chicken wings and starts in on them, making sure there's at least one drumstick on the plate for Hawk. 

"Did you hear?" Hawkeye says, examining a crouton for any traces of bell pepper he might've missed. "Whitford's been kicked out."

"He's been put on _administrative leave_ ," Lorraine corrects, the disdain dripping from every word. "Which means he's still getting a paycheck, only without having to teach or show up. If that's kicked out, I'll take it."

"Who's Whitford?" Maggie asks.

"Gender studies," Hawkeye and Lorraine say in unison. Hawkeye gestures to Lorraine to keep going. "He's been accused of sexually harassing four of his students, plus one TA," she says. 

"That's awful," Maggie mutters.

"Damn right it is," Hawk says. "First out queer prof they ever hired. What a way to go."

Lorraine and Maggie raise simultaneous eyebrows. "You feel bad for _him?_ " Lorraine asks archly.

Hawkeye puts his drumstick down. "I had the guy, freshman year," he says, looking at his plate. "Just a 101 class, but without him - look, his reading list was good, but that's not what made me - " he sputters.

"Realize you were trans?" BJ finishes for him.

"Look, I know what he's been accused of and I'm not stupid enough to believe he couldn't have done it. But I can't argue what he did for me - and so many other people at this school - wasn't worth it."

"That's complicated as fuck," Lorraine says dryly. Hawkeye looks up. 

"I'm not saying he shouldn't have been stopped or investigated and I'm not saying those students are wrong," he says firmly. Lorraine studies him, taking a few bites of chicken.

"No," she says finally. "I get it. I felt the same way after I learned that my high school English teacher - the one who assigned Audre Lorde to a room full of mostly white kids because he knew I needed to read her, the _one_ Black teacher I had in all of high school - got one of the seniors pregnant the year after I had him. It was gross. And horrifying. And I still wish he could still be teaching. Because the good he did..."

Hawk nods. "And now any Black teacher who applies to work at your school is going to be looked at like he's part of his legacy," he says. "That's how I feel about Whitford. That all the good he did is just going to be wiped out and make it harder for the next person to do any good."

Maggie puts a hand on Lorraine's back and rubs slow circles. BJ slides his arm around Hawkeye, who leans into his side. It always makes him feel big when Hawk does that. Protective. Mighty, even. 

They finish dinner in relative silence. BJ and Maggie clear the table, taking trays stacked with dishes over to the tubs of soapy water by the kitchen. 

"That sonofabitch," Maggie says quietly, scraping chicken bones into the trash.

"Bugs you too, right?" BJ says. "When I think about teachers like that, it makes me -"

"No, not that," Margaret says quickly. "It's not even that. It's all the ones who will never get caught." Her voice is bitter, carrying a note of something painful. Something sad. "How come it's always the Black ones? The gay ones?" she says without looking at him, dumping leftover water from their glasses into a bucket. "How come when white men do it, it gets swept under the rug because their legacies are sooo important?"

BJ cringes, feels heat spreading over his face. He never knows exactly what to do when the other three go off like this. _I'm one of the good ones_ he wants to say. _We're not all like that_. 

He knows better. But the impulse is there. He bites his tongue just to be sure. He stacks the rest of the dishes and turns to Maggie. She's still thinking, he can tell, but he holds an arm out. She looks up at him, and he cocks his head, raises an eyebrow. 

There's just a tiny bit of a smile as she comes in for the hug. He wraps her tight, the way he knows she likes it, rests his chin on top of her head and hums a little. 

"Um, can I get through? Or at least get you a room?" 

BJ and Maggie look up at the freshman staring at them with a full tray of chicken bones and an attitude to match. She looks up at him with a bit of a spark in her eye, and he nods. She throws her arms around his neck and gasps "Oh, _darling_! I simply can't help myself. I love a man next to a pile of dishes."

"Assholes," the freshman mutters, weaving around them to dump his trash. BJ responds by shifting his grip and dipping Maggie as low as he can, burying his face in her neck and pretending to kiss her while she makes exaggerated noises of ecstasy. Across the room, BJ hears applause. He returns Maggie to her feet and looks over to see Lorraine and Hawkeye slow-clapping them and rolling their eyes while a few other tables look on in confusion.

BJ takes a bow and strides back to their corner, Maggie clinging to his elbow. When they get there, Hawkeye stands on his tiptoes for a kiss. "Tryin'a make me jealous?" he asks with a grin.

"Did it work?" BJ shoots back.

"Come back to my place and find out," Hawk replies. 

"Oh GET A ROOM," Maggie says, but when BJ looks up, she's wrapped in Lorraine's arms, too.


	10. Chapter 10

BJ pulled the needle out of Hawkeye's hip slowly and placed his thumb over the spot he'd injected, massaging it in slow circles. 

"You did well that time," he told a puddled Hawkeye, who was spread across his lap. "Barely even flinched." 

Hawkeye rolled over until he could see BJ and stuck out his tongue. "It's because you've gotten so good at it. I hardly felt it. What is this, twenty? Twenty-one?"

BJ counted in his head. Weekly shots, six months..."Almost thirty, actually," he said. Hawkeye grinned slowly, crawling off BJ's lap and sitting up so he could kiss BJ's shoulder. BJ kissed the top of his head, then reached under the bed for the bright red sharps container. 

"Get into bed, you," he said, getting up to strip down to his boxers. "We have class in the morning." Hawkeye sprawled out across the dorm room bed on his stomach, kicked his heels up and batted his eyelashes. 

"I'm not tired," he pouted. "Got any ideas to help me sleep?" 

BJ raised an eyebrow. "You're insatiable." Hawkeye replied by offering his best that's-why-you-love-me smile.

BJ flopped down onto the bed next to him and roped an arm across Hawk's chest, pulling him onto his side so BJ could whisper at his ear. "What do you want, boy?" he murmured. Hawkeye squirmed in response, throwing a leg over BJ's hip and sidling up as close as he could. BJ chuckled ruefully. 

"You can't have that. You've already had me once today, and I don't think I can get anywhere close to that until tomorrow at LEAST." 

Hawkeye pouted. "You can borrow one of mine," he offered helpfully. 

BJ considered. "You'd want me to...wear it?" he asked, dubiously thinking about Hawkeye’s far narrower hips and the confines of his leather harness. But Hawkeye just shrugged against him. 

"Wouldn't matter. I just..." he paused again, rubbing the tip of his nose against BJ's shoulder the way he did when he felt shy about asking for something. BJ rubbed a hand over his back. 

"Tell me," he said softly, putting a hint of demand behind the words. Sometimes, it wasn't about coaxing, but giving permission by letting Hawk slip into the role of Insatiable Boy, with BJ playing the all-in-control top who   
not-so-secretly just wanted to give him everything.

Hawkeye shivered as he got the words out, barely loud enough to hear, somewhere between feeling shy and playing it up. "I just wanna be filled," he whispered, letting the words hang. 

"Oh?" J answered, doing a bit of rapid calculation - they really did need to get to sleep, and it would probably be fastest if he didn't try anything fancy or complicated. He pressed his fingertips into the dimples of Hawkeye's lower back and worked them in slow circles. "Then go get me one," he said. "Lube, too." 

Hawkeye pulled back and looked up at him, eyes dark, a slack grin on his lips. BJ swallowed - how the hell did he get there so fast, every time? 

"Don't need it," Hawkeye said, ever slightly slurred. "Try me." J slipped a hand between Hawk's legs. Fuck. "Guess you don't," he admitted, wiping his fingers on Hawkeye's hip and giving him a little shove.

Hawkeye rolled out of bed, opened the top drawer of his dresser and immediately rolled his eyes. "What - " he asked, looking over his collection, " - is the meaning of this?" 

He could hear the innocent shrug in BJ's voice. "I got tired of not being able to find what I wanted!" he said. 

"You ARRANGED my DICKS by SIZE." 

BJ grinned. "And color. You're only missing green; we should work on that." 

"You SWADDLED them in my BANDANAS!" 

"It keeps them from getting dusty!" 

Hawkeye burst into giggles, grabbing his phone and taking a picture of the offending setup. "This is my new profile pic now. You created a monster." 

BJ rolled his eyes and dropped his voice a few pitches. "Do you want to admire them or do you want to get fucked with them?" He watched the effect - Hawkeye came to a momentary stillness and shivered. He pushed it a   
little further, knowing it would get him there faster. "Answer me, boy." 

Hawkeye turned around, clutching a blue bandanna-wrapped cock in one hand. BJ nodded, beckoning him over. That wouldn't be difficult. Then Hawkeye revealed his other hand - a much smaller bundle, wrapped in a black bandanna that had been torn in half. "Oh," BJ said, feeling something in him flutter and twitch. "You want to be full." Hawkeye bit his lip and nodded. BJ rolled over, reached under the bed and grabbed a beach towel and the lube. "Get over here."

Hawkeye, for lack of a better word, scurried back to the bed, handing over the toys and laying out the towel. He started to climb into bed, but paused, looking up at BJ. "How do you want me?" he asked softly.

BJ considered. "On your knees. Head down." He unwrapped the plug, slipped a condom over it, and lubed it. "Let's start with this." 

Hawkeye obeyed, burying his head in his hands. BJ took a minute to run a hand over his ass, admiring the soft, downy hair that was starting to grow. "Look at you," he said, breaking character for a moment, "the naked mole rat grows some fur." 

Hawkeye wagged in response. "Put it in me, please?" he asked, his voice muffled. BJ eased it in - not one of the bigger ones they had, barely thicker than his finger. Hawkeye's body took it readily. He groaned as BJ fitted the base snugly against him, tapping his fingers against it in a rhythm Hawk could feel.

"That's good, that's good," BJ soothed. "But it's not enough, is it?" 

"No," Hawkeye whined. "I need more – please BJ, give me more." 

There was that stirring twitch again. BJ unwrapped the cock and lay down, holding the base against his thigh. 

"Get up here and show me," he said, giving Hawk's ass a light slap that, by Hawkeye's answering whimper, reverberated deep through him. Hawkeye gingerly got up and straddled BJ's thigh, lowering himself slowly. "Fuck," 

BJ groaned, reaching for Hawk’s dick with his thumb. "I think you're getting bigger." 

"I know I am," Hawk replied. "I tried to wear briefs this week and it was - unh - distracting." He panted, leaning forward to brace himself on the mattress, rocking back against BJ's thigh. 

"You know what I love about this?" BJ asked, lazily stroking as Hawk moved his hips, keeping his knee up and leg firm to hold Hawk in place. He grabbed the back of Hawkeye's head and pulled him closer. "I love feeling you come in my mouth," he whispered. "Pulsing and thick and so fucking hot."

Hawkeye gasped, shuddering at the words, then turned to kiss BJ's neck as he rocked his hips back. BJ's hand slipped away, drifting into the sensation, reveling in Hawkeye's tongue against a once-a-secret soft spot.   
"Fuck," he hissed, reaching his hand back to press against the plug. "Keep doing that." 

Hawkeye smirked against his skin. "If I do, what do I win?" 

"Keep it up and you'll find out." 

BJ closed his eyes, pushing against the plug in rhythm with Hawkeye's kisses. "Who told you you were allowed to distract me like this on a school night?" 

"I'm not distracting you," Hawkeye whined, nipping at BJ’s jawline. "I'm just being good and following orders." 

"Mmmm." BJ hummed his pleasure as Hawkeye worked a hand down between them. "Well then..." 

"Yeah?" 

"I didn't think I had it in me, but - " he tilted his hips towards Hawkeye's leg and laughed as Hawkeye gasped, "YES YES YES, I WIN!" before rolling off BJ and working the blue cock, grunting as he pulled.

"Get a condom, NOW," Hawkeye demanded. BJ raised an eyebrow. Hawk shook his head. "I'm not playing anymore." He leaned over to whisper, voice thick with lust. "I just want you in me, get over here, fill me up.”

"Okay, okay!" BJ grabbed a condom and slid it on as fast as he could, barely getting the lube on before Hawkeye crawled back on top of him, seized his wrists, and pinned them over BJ's head. "Oh," BJ said as Hawkeye slowly slid down his cock, enveloping him in tight, wet warmth. "I like this new game." He pulled his knees up, planted his feet, hips bucking. "Fuck, that's it, Hawk, let me see it. You're going to fuck me right over the edge if you keep this up." 

"Keep your hands where I put them," Hawkeye told him, and BJ nodded, pressing his fingertips to the windowsill behind him. Hawkeye sat up and leaned back against BJ's thighs, two fingers sliding down over his cock. BJ watched, mouth hanging open as Hawkeye worked himself closer and closer, bringing BJ right along with him.


End file.
